A rambling train of thoughts about the universe and our micro solar system consisting of our dear Sun and other planets in a magnetic dance while we hurtle through space on the face of a rock and stare at flat screens where we attempt to connect while we detach.

Sunday, April 29, 2012

As Alice’s story progresses, unfolds, words and mental images peeled off,
one chapter at a time,As the time line begins to shape up, the imagination
leaving gaps as yet to be filled in.

The Author.

I am the author of this tale about Alice and her clone-liness and
howThe world might have gone in 2064. I have no name significant to you. No
I am not the name at the top of this page. She is merely a scribe.I am an
unknown fortune teller of 2036.

When I was born, in 2020, my parents abandoned me in a templeOn a
mountain you will never know where.Sworn to secrecy and vowing silence, the
priests hid me away And I never knew any other life. My needs were met, my
nunAttendants schooled me, nurtured me, like a hundred mothers.As I grew
older, I was restless and at the age of 16, I abandoned the Temple lifestyle for
the streets of the city.That was when I discovered a great power within me,
I saw the future, Once free and hungry, finally scared, or just Smart
enough to know what scared was, finally.No one to meet my needs, no one to
lean on.

I sat in a park at midnight. A pigeon cooed and a street lamp
flickered.An old man walked by, slowly. My heart pounded, he was large,
looked fearless, maybe a desperado as they were called, homeless sharks,
desperate for anything you had.

“What took you so long?” He remarked in a voice that sounded so serene, so
mellow, so safe. (Was it a trick?)

I sat there, no name, no home, barely alive, hungry desperado
myself,Only I was 16, tender skinned, green, naïve.I could not
speak.

“Come,” He said softly, as he put his arm on my shoulder.

“Come and I will show you your powers. You are the One.”

I relented and figured if he was going to kill me, then perhaps at least it
would be over, my inability to fend as a single unit, a lone pillar topples, I
had hit rock bottom in that park. And he would be a demon or an angel.

He took me in and fed me, clothed me, gave me separate living quarters. He
gave me privacy and instruction in the ways of the world. The hard world. The
one that would step over a hungry cold 16 year old girl as they walked through
the park.

The first night after the first day in my new place, the old man as I
called him, spoke to me once.“You are free to come and go. You have powers
and you are unaware. Your parents were from my country and I will never speak of
this again. You must write down any visions you have, no matter how silly they
seem. In exchange for you recording these visions, you will live here rent free
and all of your food and living expenses will be provided for.”

It was not really a matter of whether I would do this.We like to think
we have many choices but when it comes right down to it, there is usually only
none or two and we have to pick the better one even between bad choices.

It is in this manner that I came to write down the story of Alice Karma and
her life. I wrote it decades before it happened. He knew I would be able to tune
in somehow and write this story. There must have been a connection somehow with
my parents, those unknown entities, a mystery to me which tormented me until I
died. I could tell you everything about a mythical future clone and yet nothing
about my own parents.

The old man told me one day that we were all put on the planet for a
purpose, a challenge, a love and a legacy. It is up to each of us to carry out
our purpose. When evil intent motivates an action, nothing good can come out of
that. One day early on I walked through the department store downtown. A
clerk screamed when she saw me. “I thought I saw a ghost. “, she said, with
exasperated panting and fanning her chest, as if from “the vapors”.When I
asked the old man, he said not to worry about such silliness.Deep down, I
knew it was because the clerk thought I was my mother.Puzzle piece solved. I
look like my mother. Over the years I would find a few of these pearls, yet none
led me to discover who I really was, or how I got here.These facts are
irrelevant.This story is all about Alice.

Saturday, April 28, 2012

We went about the day as normal, Saturday chores & checking online for tributes, photos from Woodstock.
It is Saturday, traditionally Ramble night. After we had been to one Ramble, we started getting excited on Saturday afternoons, even when we had no tickets. Levon is the main reason why. His cloud of supportive people is the other reason why. Mom introduced me to the poetry of Kahlil Gibran. This was a poem she shared with me after Katie died. I wanted to post words, not music tonight, another Saturday night.

A Tear And A Smile

by Kahlil Gibran

I would not exchange the sorrows of my heart For the joys of the multitude.And I would not have the tears that sadness makes To flow from my every part turn into laughter.

I would that my life remain a tear and a smile.

A tear to purify my heart and give me understandingOf life's secrets and hidden things. A smile to draw me nigh to the sons of my kind and To be a symbol of my glorification of the gods.

A tear to unite me with those of broken heart; A smile to be a sign of my joy in existence.

I would rather that I died in yearning and longing than that I live Weary and despairing.

I want the hunger for love and beauty to be in the Depths of my spirit,for I have seen those who are Satisfied the most wretched of people. I have heard the sigh of those in yearning and Longing, and it is sweeter than the sweetest melody.

With evening's coming the flower folds her petals And sleeps, embracingher longing. At morning's approach she opens her lips to meet The sun's kiss.

The life of a flower is longing and fulfilment.A tear and a smile.

The waters of the sea become vapor and rise and come Together and area cloud.

And the cloud floats above the hills and valleys Until it meets the gentle breeze, then falls weeping To the fields and joins with brooks and rivers to Return to the sea, its home.

The life of clouds is a parting and a meeting. A tear and a smile.

And so does the spirit become separated from The greater spirit to move in the world of matter And pass as a cloud over the mountain of sorrow And the plains of joy to meet the breeze of death And return whence it came.

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

We had quite a dump of rain all at once, a nor'easter giving us rain and mixed precip I really missed or ignored. Work week strains the schedule and posting is brief tonight (for tomorrow) , NCIS night. Gave up the satellite dish awhile ago so we hit or miss and really do not miss anything. Looked for spring photos in the archives, none seemed right. Cool weather can let up anytime. Will rain all week. Is it Wednesday yet?

Rain
and blowing cold winds kept us inside this weekend
listening to Levon tunes, reading tributes from all over the world,
tweeting and rewteeting some
and being sad too
in between house chores.
We listened to the Sox -Yankees games on the radio.
Non Partisan, just nice to listen to good play by play.
Painful for the Bo-sox. Rained out last night.
We needed the rain. The trees, and plants are thirsty
after just scant snowfalls. Now we hope we don't get a snow storm.
Just getting used to Spring.

With all the pain and mourning in the
world, was hoping to come up with something
profound or unique and reflective
or helpful
and all I could think of was
Rain

Saturday, April 21, 2012

Blustery weather outside, 50's.
Rain is imminent which we need so badly,
yet not too much please...
We wanted to get to the mowing and yet the cold wind
blew us back inside.
I am forging on with my novel even though last nightI literally wrote Chapter 9 while falling asleep.
There was an urgency in me getting back to Alice's part of the story.
She is the she-hero.
Ok, it might show in lack of polish or yet to be discovered typos,
fixed one when I read it.rule # 128 borrowed from the painter, there are no mistakes, only happy accidents. Fictional character: Alice is hanging in there, a trooper, and discovering herself, her quirks,
her regrets. She is finally able to see a future for herself, and go in a new direction.

The Snow subsided on the afternoon of Christmas Day in Bermuda. The sunbeams pierced the winter clouds in grand spreading golden waves of light reflected on the water. The storm was over. Alice sighed softly.

The sun warmed the air and cleansed her face and limbs. She had craved the sunlight. There had been no sunlight on Bermuda since the asteroid hit, over 6 months ago. Now, Alice marveled, she could see the snow melt, the icicles fall, the birds changed

Their tunes, sweet tunes she had not heard in months. Soon, the green would be back,

The trees would heal or be replanted, the gardens rejuvenated. Alice had a fantasy, a hope, that balmy spring day for a rebuilding of her mother’s original work. Alice would have a daughter, a clone. It was only a fantasy, Alice would remind herself silently.

Alice, Georgia and Katie picked up debris left on the beach by the storm: branches, broken beach chairs, other people’s garbage. They set aside driftwood in case the storms came back. Predictions were positive, however, that their Bermuda weather would return to its normal cycles, and natives could rest easier and expect tourists again. Alice dreaded tourists approaching the lab compound. She had fences, dogs, cameras
And still people would try to get a glimpse of the mysterious place out on Dolphin's Point.

Why is it that humans are attracted to that which they cannot attain?

The greenhouses needed some repairs where snow had collapsed the roof.
Overall, the island fared better than expected. Some deaths initially were heart attacks and panicked people. Later some died of shoveling, some shovelled after every few inches of snowfall. They just got worn out, cold, and cranky.

The laboratory stopped producing human clones long ago. Alice was the first and last clone produced before the government entities took all the equipment, notes, supplies to make more clones. Alice and Georgia turned to developing and expanding agricultural cloning, plants, animals, food production. These women were as committed to feeding the world as Susan Wolf had wanted a clone daughter.

Alice stretched out on the lounge chair after a day of beach clean-up labor. Thoughts flowed through her mind like the Interview yesterday with Gigi and memories of Dawn Fairweather, long ago, when Alice rescued her on the beach. Before long, she would be asleep and dreaming again her usual nightmare. The childhood reality based dream or subconscious bubble of memory about walking on the beach back in the Bahamas, and suddenly, her toe hit the girls ribs.

We saw him close up a few times
and it is difficult to even
comprehend
just how he keeps all those moves straight,
singing, mandolin, drums, conductor
how he makes the sticks quiver above the skins
and
how he interacts fully engaged
and looks back and forth to
his fellow musicians,
staff
and the audience
with that
smile.
We love you Levon
Best wishes to you and yours

The History of Atlantis
is an old book I found at a rummage sale.
I mailed it to Mom and she mailed it back.
She liked the book and the articles someone had clipped from the
Burlington Free press of the sixties.
In the paper articles, Jacques Cousteau was looking for Atlantis.
Just like my Mom.
Jacques was like a member of the family,
TV of the sixties...that meant we watched his show
whenever he was on. Loved his French accent.

Curious was reading about the theory that there was No Atlantis....
Shocking!
Could Atlantis have been only a fancy tale spun from men looking to explain
a utopian paradise so perfect that the earth swallowed it whole leaving not a trace?

And would Mom be relieved that perfection is Not possible,
and Atlantis is not the be all and end all.
That common daily living raising 7 children is the ultimate challenge.

Monday, April 16, 2012

The swallows and vultures are back.
I thought I saw a swallow at the same time they were chattering, bugging Fred to take the window off the shed so they can “get to it”, start the first of 2 or sometimes 3 broods.
Less than 2 minutes after the window came off, they went inside
to check out last year’s nests.
I waited outside with the camera and saw none this afternoon.
Fred snapped this one.
Welcome back.

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Tommy Fairweather sat on the plane, cell phone
To his ear and still not listening to the drone of a prospective client.
His mind fixated on the cryptic limited words,
He recalled from earlier,
the phone call from
His sister Gigi,
She spit out, “There has been an Accident.
Adrenaline rush #1.………
Dawn is OK.
[remembering all the times Gigi said something was ok…Dad died,
Mom broke her hip, Gigi’s parachute did not open, Tommy’s dog drowned, ad infinitum]
But a little Banged up…”
***click***

A solar flare cut off their conversation and at that point, Gigi had done all she could do. She knew Tommy would be there as soon as humanly possible. Tommy stared out the window.
“Are you ok?” his client on the phone grumbled.
Tommy scratched the phone, squeaking the word “static…” and hung up and turned it off, covered his head, and sobbed.
“Dawn…..”, he wimpered softly. “I am coming, little girl…”

Dawn woke smelling the clean antiseptic menthol alcohol scent of the island hospital. Her movement was restricted. She was in a body cast and
felt tubes in several uncomfortable places. One she could see draped across her cheek running up to a plastic bin with milk in it or so it appeared.
Her pain was coming in waves and yet even at the age of 10, she was reassured as she deduced that having pain indicated she was alive.
She felt an itch just below her left ankle and tried to look down but a
Neck collar kept her head up facing forward.
Dawn began to say, “Nurse, Nurse.” over and over again, starting softly,
Seeing the shut door, she increased the volume,
Until she was nearly screaming, “Nurse, Nurse!”

Tommy got his bags and took a cab to the hospital where Dawn was presently screaming for the nurses.

The old woman from the beach sat in the waiting room, blending in with the other visitors, no one questioned why she was there. She often sat by Alice in the waiting room.
In the short time Dawn was recovering in the hospital, Alice grew to trust and love the old woman.
Susan and Georgia were oblivious to the old woman. Their primary concern was Dawn.
The old woman held an amulet in her hand, recited spells in her mind,
Sending a message without speaking of the apocalypse
And the horrors of cloning.
The old woman secretly was plotting to hurt Alice as the old woman tried to blame Alice for Dawn’s near drowning.

Gigi came to Alice’s defense as she knew exactly what had happened.
The captain of the tourist vessel Dawn and Gigi had been on, explained to the authorities how this little girl was thrown overboard from a rogue wave and how she was pulled underwater and washed ashore. The reef kept them out farther than they would like. It was faster to come ashore around the point. They did what they could.

Tommy was never called. It would be some time before he would even know any of this.

Dawn saw her father Tommy and her eyes lit up. Tommy had a let down feeling seeing a body cast, tubes, his little girl, a heap of broken bones in a foreign hospital. He was going to really give it to Gigi…
He never thought Gigi should take Dawn on that trip. Dawn did not even know how to swim. Tommy squeezed Dawn’s hand and showed her the teddy bear he got her. Her cradled it in her casted arm. She was relieved, her father was here. Perhaps now she could go back home. Little did she know, her forever home would be changing soon for forever.

Meanwhile, Susan’s security detail summoned her to bug out of the Bahamas to Bermuda. They had a secure facility there and her data chips were being locked down.
The elderly medicine woman had spilled the clone talk, and threatened all Susan had built up. Alice’s innocent friendship nearly cost their lives and Susan would have to speak with Alice about clone talk. Susan just could not bring herself to do the corrective talk to Alice today. Tomorrow she would be a parent. Tomorrow she would set the limits and boundaries. Today she was gathering any vital info to save and packing for their new home. Today they were moving to Bermuda.
Dawn was transported to a hospital in Houston near where she and Tommy lived.

Susan, Alice, Georgia, Katie and the labs moved to Bermuda.

Alice never ran away again. Georgia forgave Alice.

Life for the adults went straight forward, barely faltered,

plodded on, so much to do.

They had moved into an old college campus

and had better labs really, They accelerated their research for

sustainable foods and living off the Earth.

Alice felt so much had changed.
When would life settle down?
Would her life be different if she had not run away?
And run into Dawn? and the Old Lady?

Years later she would ask herself how did such a special friend Dawn and the old lady turn out to be both bad friends,

Sunday, April 8, 2012

Have a Blessed Easter wherever you are on or off the planet.
My memories of Easter are mental snaphots and video clips of Mom putting a new dress on me,
me feeling awkward and flat footed, standing lined up with my brothers for pictures
with my new dress and shoes on.
Easter candy and great foods awaited my completion of church attendance.
The images in the church, confusing.
A handsome, friendly looking serene man hanging on a crossHe died for our sins Who is He?

Even now, curious about how He really died, the nurse in me looked for the answers.
I found this Link to
A doctor's account of the crucifixion experience and progression of death.
How much more suffering could one human impose on another?

when i saw the expensive chocolate cross in the aisle at w-mart,it jogged me,materialismus.Jogged again,that was the guy pushing me from behindin a hurry for Easter.

then the kidi helped him bag the groceries and he thanked mei told him i sensed people were a little cranky todayand that tomorrow they would all be praying for atonement.he laughed for a second.theni happened on this article which helps me clarify how He died for our sins

Rudy's Eyes.
I remember the pain I saw
reflected in Rudy's eyes.
He told me long ago
When we were close,
He lost his wife Kit,
My Mother in Law
I never knew.
She took 20 aspirins a day
and had a stroke
and did not make it to 50.
He described her
gnarly joints,
wheelchair,
pain and debility,
hope and perseverance,
raising 3 children
on the farm.
I treasure those rare second hand memories of my mother in law
via Rudy when we sat
by the woods
taking a break in between
loads of firewood.
He loved her so
and felt so powerless
as she slipped away,
this big strong man
he shared that with me,
and always with the story,
a tear formed
in Rudy's eyes.

I wrote this when Lisa Emrich challenged me in poetry month.
This poem about the sadness and challenges of rheumatoid arthritis.
I have cared for many people with stages mild to severe RA.
Then this memory came to me. Pain all around.
The good news is
Treatment is possible today not available mere decades ago.

and in honor of poetry month & Lisa's poetry challenge,here is a freestyle one for all of us with scars on our nervous systemthat we have trouble explaining,kind of like these images,complex,hard to seefrom the outside.

Sunday, April 1, 2012

I am posting for Sunday and Monday. Taking a day off tomorrow so to speak.
We were disappointed that we got all the way to the beach and Levon [update 4.21.12 could not perform i re-read this today 4.21 and got mad at myself. started cutting and striking through. Now in the anger phase]did not take long to get past denial...we thought he could heal from any sprain, ache, he was one of those tightly wound intense people, you never want to tangle with, he will win everytime.
[update#2 on 4.21.12, which is 3 weeks later, Levon has passed on and how sad it is. He rarely cancelled shows and had survived great adversity. The only good news is he did not suffer from the dwindles. As we drove away from the cancelled show, I knew Levon was the most disappointed that day. He lived to perform. He taylored his healthcare choices so he could perform. We are grateful passive listeners.mary]
he was 70 something and was going to do a rockin' headliner performance 3 weeks ago.
Still we found some very nice people and just the feel of the beach I needed to go on with this
story of Alice Karma. I took some nice photos and heard the sound and smell of the ocean.
We saw the sunrise, ate seafood and walked on the sand. Penny had given me a piece of black coral for
a going away gift. Within a week we were at the ocean. The blankets in our cozy room adorned with dark coral, surfboard picture on the wall. So it seemed like good timing, this trip we took.
A mini vacation. The hotel lady told us the concert was called off after the sound checks.
She said it in her dry New Hampshire way. I thought she was joking. She was not.
When we got home I researched the word disappointment.
I found this quote in several places...

"It is cruel, you know, that music should be so beautiful. It has the beauty of loneliness of pain: of strength and freedom. The beauty of disappointment and never-satisfied love. The cruel beauty of nature and everlasting beauty of monotony.”

― Benjamin Britten

And I realized we were disappointed because his music means so much to us.
Disappointment does not come from casual desires.

Interview with a Clone
Chapter 7

By Mary E. Gerdt 2012 all rights reserved

The Recovery part 1

Dawn Fairweather felt lost in a fog of near drowning, being near death,

Nearly lured all the way down the long hallway towards the light.

Every time she opened her eyes, the light, too much, the faces, all staring,

The pain in her broken bones,

Unbearable. She could not scream, it hurt when she breathed, feeling her lungs wet and spongy, still coughing up the ocean.

She tried to shield her eyes and ears, her face, from the reality she felt.

Trying to hide like an ostrich. Her left arm was broken at the shoulder.

She was alive and though she was only 10 years old, she knew she would be hurting for some time to come.

When was it, when she realized there were consequences?

There was a future beyond today?

The paramedics and local volunteers worked through their protocols while on the radio
To a pediatrician in Nassau. A local woman had been the first to arrive when she heard Alice’s screams. She stayed holding Dawn until help arrived. Then she was shooed away. Dawn looked for her now, as these strange people touched her with rubber gloved hands and a frightened gawking look. Dawn looked awful. Bruised and bloated, bent in the wrong places.

Alice ran back to the house and brought help. Now Alice stood back, wanting to get involved and yet frightened at the sight.

Georgia felt comfortable with chaos, pain and emergencies. She had her doctor bag and drew up some morphine. Georgia beckoned to Alice to hold Dawn’s good right hand. Alice complied. Georgia checked vital signs, started an IV and began fluids. She started with a few milligrams of morphine to start. The girl was shaking from pain and hypothermia. Georgia tried to immobilize the girl’s shoulder and arm and her legs, then covered her. They carefully loaded her onto the stretcher and she got more morphine. Then into the helicopter life flight to Nassau.

Alice and Georgia went with Dawn to the hospital. Dawn would not let go of either of them. Susan would have to go home to tend the experiments. She knew Georgia could handle this and that Alice would be OK with Georgia.
Susan saw Gigi Fairweather at a distance, just by the way she carried herself.

By now, Gigi knew that her brother’s daughter Dawn had been found, was awake, alert and being transported to see a pediatric trauma surgeon on Nassau. Dawn fell off the boat her Aunt Gigi had hired for a snorkeling vacation treasure hunting. Dawn could not swim and hit some rock before being pulled under in a rip tide. She then washed up on shore at Alice's feet.

Susan and Gigi embraced briefly, coolly. They had not seen each other since military academy.

“She is alive,” Susan said with a rarely expressed compassion.

Gigi blurted out, “It is all my fault, all my fault…“she poured out.

“No.” Susan uttered, "you do not need to go blaming anyone."

Susan continued, “She is alive. Alice spoke with her, Georgia and Alice are with her. They left for Nassau a half hour ago. Come, Gigi, come in and we will have a drink. There is nothing more we can do at this moment.”

Dawn and Alice’s eyes became fixed together. Dawn felt her pain melt a little with the morphine. The pain got a little more distant, she squeezed Alice’s trembling scared cold hand.

Georgia was phoning vital signs to the doctor via radio and shining lights into Dawn’s pupils, asking her questions, Where are you? Who are you? Alice laughed a little inappropriately.

Georgia, serious and solemn, worried, and now a little irritated at Alice, who ruined Katie’s birthday party.

“What are you laughing at, young lady?”

Oh no, Alice thought, she knew that tone…

Alice shook her head no, it meant “nothing…”

The doctor ashore seemed relieved for the moment.
Georgia in turn breathed a sigh of relief. They were 10 minutes to Nassau and the surgeon was standing by. The Anesthesia doctor was there. Nurses ready.

Dawn was alert and was alive and breathing.

Georgia asked Alice, “How did you find this, this girl?”

“Dawn”, Dawn said, feeling the need to defend her new found friend.

Alice said meekly, “I was running away from home.” She hung her head down

And was ready for punishment.

Georgia puzzled, asked Dawn what she was doing there.

Dawn replied, “I do not remember.” and passed out cold.

Alice screeched a little but choked it back as quickly as it started. She squeezed Dawn’s little hand and prayed silently, like the old lady did on the beach, the one who heard her screaming when she found Dawn and the old lady said, “go for help, Alice, I will pray for her.”

Georgia checked Dawn’s pulse and it was thready but present and she was breathing shallowly.

“She is OK.” Georgia said to a worried Alice.

“She will be OK. Rub her good arm gently." Alice complied, soothingly.

NASA's New Horizons: A Heart from Pluto

Lake Champlain

the challenges of freedom

My words were simply, "I cannot comprehend this." when told an excuse that my absentee ballot hadn't been mailed because.....I lost the rest. I filled out the absentee ballot form. Finally I wrote to the town front porch forum. Here it is:

School Revote

MARY GERDT

I did not receive an absentee ballot for the recent revote of the school vote. Apparently none were sent? Or did you receive one and mine was omitted? I prefer to vote at home. I signed the paper for absentee ballots. The Secretary of state said it is up to me to enforce the election rules. It is up to me to ask the town clerk to explain, go to court if need be. No, my body cannot take any more of that. My vote was not counted. If you like that policy, carry on. Just don't presume to know all the reasons I do not want to vote out in public. I thought that is what absentee ballots were all about.

update 5.19.15 follow up post to front porch forum

Several issues back I inquired if others in Monkton did not receive absentee ballots for the town school budget re-vote. I got no response. I do not interpret that as apathy or a conspiracy against me, although I am sorely tempted to take the easy way out. It is stuck in my craw, the assistant town clerk (why did we need an assistant?) said we talked it over and it was too late to send the absentee ballots out. Now I will reiterate I do not have the energy to fight this town over not being able to vote on a budget that affects the taxation on our property. I will submit to the reader that if you tolerate this, it is a slippery slope. Oh, and fair warning: when you fill out the form from the Secretary of State of Vermont for absentee voting for the year, and send it to the Town clerk or assistant, don't expect that you will receive the ballots as requested. Then when you don't, guess "they" decided there wasn't enough time. My vote was never counted.

What if you could help tell the history of 1960's #NYC #GreenwichVillage? You can, See Richard...

Monkton Chronicles

Monkton Chronicles,

November 2016

Thanksgiving Week

It's been 7 months since I have put out an article about this town. Pipeline Fighters, Political Sparring, Health and Fatigue have dominated my summer. Now Summer and Fall are behind us. The first snow a gentle morning. A new America is forming, baby boomers aging, parties losing, party winning. Not worth crying about, little snowflakes, we all melt away in the end. We scraped up what silver we had to pay the taxman. Narrowly paid, avoiding being pinched by zero tolerance tax collectors. shortly after that our 11 year old pellet stove died. It was a good run. Fred and son installed our new stove. toasty warm. hopefully you are warm wherever you are. best wishes, meg

April 2016

4.30.16

I have neglected my lonely Chronicles, Times are tough in this idyllic state of chaos. Vermont, of course, is what I mean. Vermont and Vermonters, genuine and those who "identify as Vermonters" can take credit for the steady as he goes, In full command, Silver Warrior, Bernie Sanders. I predicted he will win the nomination. I still believe that. Locally the steadily advancing Northern front of the Canadian free for all Gaz pipeline. They are carving their way to the Tree that they killed, in fact, many hardwoods. They chipped them, all. Come on down and look. I don't know what the answer is. Addie could only stay up in that tree so long. We warriors for the planet feel we have been here before. And hope we may stop the madness that supports fracking in #Alberta. Town of Monkton, Vermont has a website if you care to peruse the gas pipeline stuff. It all makes me sick.

Spring is being her usual stubborn self in the North Country. The Sunlight has been marvelous. Code word: Sunlight = Arctic air...brr.

May will start a little warmer and badly needed rain. That will wash the pollen down, and start the greening...A Spring delight here. Brown to Green. All for now. Have a Wonderful May. meg

March 2016

3.18.16

It's been awhile since I have posted in the land of sparse news.

There was a "Quintessential Town Meeting" in Monkton, Vermont that I have once again boycotted. That's part of the plan, you know, to steer the town business the way of the chosen few. I gave up, quit, starvation of my political desires. Forget it. I can't. It's hard to explain all this. You may think I am being whiny, intolerant. ignorant...

No, I am frustrated. How can one person one vote by transferred to the mass in the school auditorium? If you're still confused, that, too is part of the plan. No wonder I haven't written updates in the Chronicles.

Keep tuned...spring is on the way. meg

February 2016

2.10.2016

Still more or less an open winter with spotty snowfalls in the Champlain Valley. Some cold air on the way to take us below zero.

We are now on the shorter side of winter. The daylight hours changing subtly at first, then all at once you notice. The snow that is lacking reminds me of how reflective snow is. South of here, blizzards and hurricanes. Guess it's nice for us to have a break.

The election timeline is fascinating, for a few seconds. Then it falls into a monotony. The major media outlets rake in the dough...strange that donations go to elect people. Or that a woman (Carly Fiorina) was excluded from the New Hampshire debate because of polls that in New Hampshire, are grossly inaccurate. Women were not outraged at Carly's being stifled or Sarah Palin being called dumb. There should be so surprise when Hilary is squashed like in 2008.

Enough for now. Healing with Knight Salve #5, probiotics, sunshine.

January 2016

01.21.16

Every winter in Vermont is tough, just for different reasons. This year we were not hardened off, so to speak. All of the sudden it got cold, over and over. Eek. Finally got to this chore. The town as relates to me, We sent in forms for absentee ballots. Why do we have to do this every year? I am still experimenting with salves, and other healing regimens. Time is the factor we surely cannot control. Today, breaks of sunlight is warm in a south window.We fight the pipeline, the state brought a stacked deck to the public service board of Yes.

All for now.

December 2015

12.31.2015

Our unusually mild weather has turned to more typical cold, rain and snow.

The last day of 2015 finds me upright and breathing. Skin in the healing mode, aided by salves and soaps I have put together. Avoiding the mainstream products when I can.

We had a low keyed Christmas. Turning in early for New Year's. Hope everyone is safe tonight. Tomorrow is 2016.

That is an interesting number, isn't it? meg

12.7.2015

The Sun is lower in the sky, air is colder. We are enjoying the warmer December. There will be colder days ahead. Have been blogging, tweeting, and attempted to get my Samsung phone to coordinate with clouds, kindles, PC's and a rusty brain.

News came hard that a friend, my blogger mentor, Herrad Ford had passed away after an illness. Please say a prayer for her husband who is hurting right now. I am working on a tribute post. It will come to me when it is good and ready. Sleep helps with expression. Does that make sense? I am tired. Done for the day. Well, done except for watching Scorpion and NCIS-LA, 2 of my favorite shows right now.

by Ralph Waldo Emerson

“For each thorn, there's a rosebud...for each twilight — a dawn... for each trial — the strength to carry on,For each stormcloud — a rainbow... for each shadow — the sun... foreach parting — sweet memories when sorrow is done.”

Quotes

Not sure where I found these."Suppose there are no hypothetical situations.""When your horse dies, get off."my lawyer haiku:"Lawyering,Back and forth they go,Poor folks suffer, losing time,Property all gone."

Gadget

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Quotes

"Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear -- not absence of fear."--Mark Twain, 19th-century American writer

“Security is mostly a superstition. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outrightexposure. Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing.”--Helen Keller, 20th-century American writer, lecturer, advocate

"The vision of justice is an eternal long march to the Promised Land of the good life for all.” Justin Dart, Jr.

Wisdom of Kahlil Gibran

"Yesterday we obeyed kings and bent our necks before emperors. But today we kneel only to truth, follow only beauty, and obey only love."

Fear

"There is the fear that we shan't prove worthy in the eyes of someone who knows us at least as well as we know ourselves. That is the fear of God. And there is the fear of Man --fear that men won't understand us and we shall be cut of from them."
Robert Frost

Folks

In winter's tedious nights, sit by the fire With good old folks, and let them tell thee tales. --Shak. [1913 Webster]

Quote(s) of the Millenium

"Man, like a tree in the cleft of a rock, gradually shapes his roots to his surroundings, and when the roots have grown to a certain size, can't be displaced without cutting at his life." Oliver Wendell Holmes"What lies behind us and what lies before us are small matters compared to what lies within us."
- Oliver Wendell Holmes

Ready for Garth Hudson..from Levon Helm Studios twitter feed...

Music Links: Levon Helm Website & has the Midnight Ramble schedule

Official Blog of Mary E. Gerdt

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Welcome

and feel free to move about the cabin. The ride may be bumpy. Some of this stuff is mine. Some stuff is other people's links-please read & enjoy, I work for free. Please do not rip off anything and sell it. Please do buy people's music listed here to support their music. If you do not want something posted here please tell me. Have a great day in the blogosphere. Mary